In 10 years, the fearless head of the National Theatre has made it Britain's
cultural epicentre

It was Sir Tyrone Guthrie who once defined the art of the theatre director as “filling everyone with a yearning to get back at 10 the next morning”. If this is indeed the ultimate criterion of directorial pedigree, Sir Nicholas Hytner, who has announced his decision to vacate the artistic directorship of the National Theatre in 2015, is surely an outstanding example.

A director must be many things – including, according to Billy Wilder, a policeman, a psychoanalyst, a sycophant and a bastard. Running a company as vast and potentially unwieldy as the NT requires an even more varied set of skills, yet Hytner’s decade-long tenure has seen the company reposition itself at the epicentre of British cultural life.

Actors want to work in it, playwrights want to write for it, and audiences are flocking there in unprecedented numbers (many of them aged under 25), all drawn by a dizzying succession of critically acclaimed and populist productions. Quite simply, the place is on a roll.

I witnessed Hytner’s particular brand of genius at close quarters many years ago, when I appeared in his first West End production, a lavish staging of The Scarlet Pimpernel which transferred from Chichester Festival Theatre in 1985.

The production could easily have been a lumbering, if decidedly arch confection. Yet Hytner, showing the flair that he has since displayed to such effect on the South Bank, grabbed the piece by the throat, turning it into a blood-curdling and dazzling piece of theatre, one that thrilled as much as it entertained.

Above all (or so it seemed to us) he displayed two qualities that all actors look for in a director: clarity of vision and a total loyalty to the people he’d entrusted to deliver the product. In addition, he was fearless in doing whatever was needed to improve the show, regardless of the consequences for tender egos. Such a regime provides the most nourishing of soil for actors to do what they do best – to dream.

In truth, each of the four separate directors of the National Theatre has stamped their own personality on the building during their tenure. I first worked there in the last months of the directorship of Sir Peter Hall, whose gift for succeeding against overwhelming practical obstacles set the bar for his successors; some years later, I was in the NT’s production of King Lear under Sir Richard Eyre, who, like Hytner, displayed a rare skill for combing high art with razzle-dazzle.

But Hytner has surely done as much as any to raise the company to its current unprecedented status. At the heart of this success lies his simple ability to pick a winner. Directors, like football managers, often rely on instinct: choose the right people, back yourself, create an environment in which individuals can express themselves. And as Guthrie himself might have said, light the blue touchpaper and stand clear.

Hytner’s ability in this regard has been virtually faultless. There are too many successes in recent years to enumerate, but three that particularly stick in the mind are The History Boys, One Man, Two Guvnors and the extraordinary War Horse, a project of such hare-brained ambition that you can only wonder what possessed anyone to think they could get away with it.

But Hytner’s fierce desire to open up the company and the fabric of the building to the widest possible demographic will surely prove his most enduring legacy. Initiatives such as the Travelex £10 seat and the live cinema relay of current productions have brought a genuine sense of vitality to proceedings and spread the NT’s fan base. Add to that the company’s doubling of its revenue and halving of its reliance on public funding, and everyone’s happy.

Adrian Lester, who starred in Hytner’s first production at the NT and is currently rehearsing the title role in his new production of Othello, described him to me thus: “He’s like an incredibly gifted conductor when in rehearsal. He doesn’t play every instrument and doesn’t pretend to. He creates and sustains a very clear vision of what he wants to achieve and then gives you the freedom to do your best work in order to be a part of that vision.” Enough said.

It was Michael Winner who famously described collaboration as “everyone else doing what I tell them”, and in truth, all great directors, including Hytner, must have a tiny shard of ice in their heart in order to be truly successful.

Perhaps my favourite story of this artistry was one related to me by Alan Ayckbourn, himself one of the best there is. Many years ago, when still an actor, he found himself playing Stanley in a production of Pinter’s The Birthday Party at Scarborough, directed by the author himself – only the second production of the play following its disastrous initial run at The Lyric, Hammersmith.

Ayckbourn, along with the rest of the bemused cast, was mystified by the provenance of these strange characters in the drama. One day he plucked up his courage and asked Pinter where this sad, failed concert pianist came from; and, when Goldberg and McCann had carted him away in a van, where on earth did he go to?